


Polaroid Tomorrow

by floatingpastel, softsilences



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Children, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Oikawa loves Iwa-chan, casual reality-bending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingpastel/pseuds/floatingpastel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsilences/pseuds/softsilences
Summary: Oikawa has a camera that can take pictures of the future. Iwaizumi has a yellow marker.





	

 

Tooru jumps with some cheer, feet light and knees bent as he pushes his body up into the air. He lands heavily on a puddle, watches as the water splashes and sprinkles wet blotches onto the already drying pavement. It rained earlier, he surmises, what with the earthy scent of petrichor fresh in his nostrils. And, with a spring in his step, he inhales lightly.

Just a few steps ahead, Hajime walks with his back towards Tooru, eyes on the ground but head half-turned as if waiting for the right moment to glance at the other.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru chirps as he catches up to his best friend. “Do you want to come to my house to play later?”

Hajime blinks at him. “Sure,” he eventually says. “But… I have to tell mom first.”

“Eh? But we live right next to each other!” Tooru says, which was actually not true, since Hajime’s house was at the end of the street, a whole five blocks away from Tooru’s.

“Besides, you can just use the phone to call your mom!” Tooru adds, using both of his hands to grip the straps of his backpack for some kind of dramatic effect. Somehow, he notices, his bag feels heavier than usual.

He makes a mental note to check the contents of his bag later once he gets home, just in case the girls in his class slipped something inside without him noticing. After all, it already happened before.

“Still,” Hajime insists, mimicking the way Tooru’s hands were wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack.

“But…” Tooru begins, pursing his lips in thought. The last time Hajime had to pass by his house to ask for permission, it took him more than an hour to finally come to Tooru’s house, which meant less play time for them!

“But my mom’s gonna make agedashi tofu. I told her you’d come play today,” Tooru says.  
  
“What? You didn’t have to do that!” Hajime exclaims, his voice reaching a pitch higher than normal. “I could just ask my mom to make some for me, you know,” he continues.

  
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru presses his lips into a pout, eyebrows furrowing and practiced puppy eyes suddenly in place. In the short eight years he’s been alive, he has learned that this always works without fail on his best friend, even when Hajime pretends it doesn’t.

He tries to make his eyes bigger, leaning closer towards Hajime, who frowns and leans back, flushing a little.

“Fine!” Hajime obliges, frowning even deeper when Tooru breaks into a smile. “But you have to promise to give me part of your portion later.”

Right on cue. Tooru laughs. “Deal. In fact, I could give them all to you if you want, Iwa-chan,” he says, and he lets himself walk just a little bit closer to Hajime.

 

* * *

 

Hajime ends up going home right after two and a half helpings of dinner and more than enough babying from Tooru’s mom.

Tooru swears that Hajime has become his own mother’s favorite child. Judging by the three cups of chocolate milk his mother allowed Hajime (two too many!), he wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up to news about how his mother has adopted Hajime and how he’ll be forced to share his room with Hajime soon. He’s not sure who he should be jealous of.

Fortunately, before Tooru’s mother could whip out adoption papers, Hajime decides to go home, but not before he insistently reminds Tooru to do his homework.

So Tooru does. He grabs his bag and remembers how he noticed it to be a little heavier than usual earlier, before finally unzipping it to inspect its contents.

He finds a curious little box on top of his basic math schoolbook which he knows wasn’t there before when he was packing up to go home from school. Examining the box closer, he notices a note on top, and he squints as he tries to read the faded graphite writing on the paper:

 _The object inside this box can tell you about the future_ _. Use it well._

Tooru tilts his head in confusion. The future?

Curious, he shakes the box slightly, acting as if doing so would tell him about just what is inside the mysterious package. The sound that the box makes is enough to get him to open it right then and there.

Inside is a white and square device, Tooru finds. He brings it out carefully with both hands, turns the device around in his palms, and then, after much scrutinization, decides that it looks like one of those fancy things that his older sister owns: a polaroid camera.

Suddenly, he feels a subtle shift in the air, and he turns his head to look around his room with caution. Granted, he has no idea how the camera got into his bag, who gave it to him, or why it was given to him in the first place, he expects to see someone or at least something; but he sees nothing out of the ordinary.

However, the camera still feels foreign against his skin. Clearly, Tooru thinks, he is not holding an ordinary camera. He thinks about taking pictures, small head already brimming with possibilities, all the stuff he can do with a device that claims to see the future.

He slides open the film cartridge in the way that he remembers his sister does to check if the camera is usable, and he frowns when he finds the slot empty.

Despite that, he tries pressing the shutter button, and a slow, yet bright smile blooms on his lips when the camera flashes and a glossy piece of paper comes sliding out of the opening.

 

* * *

 

Tooru’s not sure about using it well, but he does use it a lot. Maybe too much. He ignores it in favor of homework and sleep that night, but the very next day after school he runs up to his room, grabs the camera, and takes a picture of the posters on his wall.

He vibrates in excitement, waiting for the picture produced by the camera to be fully developed. There was no noticeable difference between the picture and his posters, really. The top player in Japan’s men’s volleyball team is still looking straight ahead, smiling blankly at him with a hand held up in a peace sign. His Star Wars poster is still taped haphazardly right beside it.

Upon closer inspection, however, Tooru notices the slight wear in the corners of the posters, the chipping in the paint on the wood, and he grins.

He tries it again, taking a picture of the family T.V. downstairs. The resulting snap is that of a broken skeleton of a T.V. along with pieces of glass scattered on the floor.

A week later, their dog Toko breaks it by toppling the old thing off the counter in a wild chase with their other dog Komaru. Tooru helps his parents clean up the mess.

A picture of a tree shows a cat who isn’t there at the moment. napping on one of its branches

A picture of an old, moldy, abandoned building turns into a sleek and modern-looking commercial one.

On a whim, he asks his mother if they could plant an orange tree on an unused space in their backyard. His mother agrees. He takes a picture of the patch of soil in which they plant it, and in the photo, the plant grows into a full-fledged orange tree, the bright burst of the fruit’s color against the dark green of the leaves pleasing to his young eyes.

When Tooru takes a photo of a random high school girl passing by the school gates, he gets a picture of an old woman, somewhere else, maybe in a living room or a kitchen, cradling something in her arms with eyes full of fondness and love.

“Oi! Walk faster, we’ll be late!” Hajime shouts at him, startling Tooru out of the few seconds he spent just looking at the picture.

“Coming, Iwa-chan!”

“Geez, you’re so obsessed with that camera lately.”

Eyes on the back of Hajime’s shirt, Tooru walks to class, thoughtful.

 

* * *

 

“Tooru. Lunch time’s almost over,” comes Hajime’s voice, clear and audible even through the low murmur of mixed conversation in the schoolyard.

A gust of wind breezes through and rustles the leaves of the tree above them.

Hajime listens as the tree breaks out into some kind of applause from nature, watches as small leaves come falling from above and onto Tooru’s head.  
  
“Tooru.”

“Hmm?” Tooru hums, tilting the device in his hands so he could look at Hajime with one eye, the other still hidden behind the camera’s viewfinder. “Sorry, Iwa-chan. Come again?”

“I swear. I’m gonna take that thing away from you if you don’t finish your lunch,” Hajime says as he plunks himself down to sit beside his best friend, back resting against the tree trunk, “It’s like you don’t even run out of– of film, or whatever.”

  
“Wanna know why?” Tooru asks, looking back at Hajime with an innocent smile. He puts the camera down onto his lap. “It’s magic, Iwa-chan!”

“Magic,” Hajime says, as if weighing the word on his lips. “Do you wanna see a magic trick?” Hajime grins.

“I didn’t know you knew of any magic tricks...” Tooru narrows his eyes just slightly. He’s just not sure if Hajime can pull off something more bizarre than the camera in his hands, even if there is a hint of confidence in Hajime’s smile. Nevertheless, he agrees. “Okay then, give it your best shot!.”

“Kay. But close your eyes first.”

Tooru closes them.

Plucking blades of grass straight from the soil, Hajime grins even wider. He gathers two handfuls before he says, “Now open them.”

Tooru does just as what he’s been told. As soon as he opens his eyes, he sees specks of something green falling from above his head. It doesn’t take him a while to notice, especially once he takes in the smell of soil and dew, that Hajime is showering him with bits of soil and blades of plucked grass, pretending as if he was in fact a magician sprinkling glitter for a magic trick.

“ _Tada_ ,” Hajime says, almost comically. “Now you feel hungry! Eat.”

Tooru gasps. “That was so uncalled for!”

Hajime just looks at him and wipes his hands clean on his shirt before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

And it’s in that moment Tooru realizes that the scene laid out before him would make for a pretty picture: his best friend sitting cross-legged on the ground and leaning on a tree to eat in comfortable silence, the wind rustling his hair and making it even messier than it already is, the sporadic scattering of light filtering through the spaces between the leaves above their heads painting just the right amount of shadows on Hajime’s face.

“Hmm,” Tooru hums again, readying the camera. “Smile!”

“If I let you take a picture of me, will you finally finish your lunch?”

“Yes, yes… So stay still, okay?”

Snap.

The camera makes a low whirring sound. Tooru looks intently at the photo, lips pressed into a thin line as he flicks the sheet in his hand, as if doing so would make the captured image come to view faster.

Hajime moves to hand him his own sandwich.

The picture fully develops, the colors vivid and clear as with all the other photos Tooru has taken in the past few days. Tooru stares.

“Hey,” Hajime prods, one arm still held outward as he pokes Tooru’s cheek with his lunch.

“Oh, sorry, Iwa-chan. I…” Tooru takes the food. He only lets his eyes meet Hajime’s for a short moment before he looks back at the photo in his hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…? What’s gotten into you so suddenly?”  
  
“Iwa-chan…” Tooru starts, his words already on the tip of his tongue, but before he could finish the sentence, the bell rings, signaling the the continuation of classes.

He doesn’t notice Hajime’s eyes dwelling on him in concern as they walk back to their classroom, too busy looking down and eating his lunch in morose silence.

 

* * *

 

He’s a bad, selfish boy Tooru thinks, as he looks at the picture.

The adult man in the picture—Hajime—is smiling. He’s dressed up in a white suit, mouth caught in a blinding smile. He’s looking at someone, a woman whose face Tooru can’t see because a pretty white lace veil covers it, but Tooru assumes she’s smiling at him too. How could she not? Hajime looks handsome.

That afternoon, Tooru skipped playtime with the other kids, making an excuse about a stomachache and sprinting home first before Hajime could protest or follow him home.

He wouldn’t be Hajime’s number one forever. Tooru may be really childish, but he’s almost a grown-up now, and grown-ups should understand that their best friends wouldn’t be theirs forever. It’s only normal that he and Hajime would grow up and find pretty ladies to marry, even though the thought of girls still send Tooru into feelings of mild disgust. He’ll get cooties.

The weight of the camera feels like a ghost in his bag.

He doesn’t want it anymore.

Too lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sound of leather-clad feet hitting against the concrete, which should’ve warned him of the incoming heavy weight on his back. It sends him off balance, almost tripping him in its unexpectedness. A pair of arms circle around his shoulders, with something firm and sharp settling between his shoulder blades.

“Tooru,” Hajime’s muffled voice says. It vibrates on Tooru’s back. “Are you mad?”

Tooru grits his teeth, clenching his fists until they hurt. He feels tears pricking at his eyes, begging him to let them fall.

“I’m– I’m not mad, Iwa-chan.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Hajime’s voice is so full of concern that it sends Tooru over the edge. He bawls loudly, head thrown back and uncaring if anyone passing by hears him. His fists stay clenched at his sides but he feels Hajime adjusting so he can face him, using his fingers to pry Tooru’s fists open so that he can hold Tooru’s hands tightly in his.

“Tooru, what’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t w-wanna– don’t w-wanna get replaced…” Tooru sniffles loudly,  “I w-wanna be your number one f-forever…”  
  
“What?” Hajime asks softly, despite Tooru’s shouts. He’s always been so gentle with him, always, always…

“Don’t–” Toorus voice breaks, reconnects on a higher pitch, “Don’t leave me, I-Iwa-chan! I know you’ll get married someday and have kids and start a family but, I don’t wanna–”

Hajime at him. “You’re ridiculous…" he says, "That’s so far away in the future. And how do you know I’ll even marry? Maybe I’ll grow up to be like Uncle Soichi, really wrinkly and smelly and surrounded only by dogs and cats, you know?”

“I just know, Iwa-chan, okay?! I know you’ll marry, and stuff, and, and end up leaving me…”

Hajime hums, freeing one of Tooru’s hands to wipe at his tears.

“Then, you already know who’s going to be my bride?”

“Yes… but not exactly. I-I don’t know her name. But I know she’ll be pretty in her white dress, and that she’ll love you and you’ll love her–”

“How about this, then? I’ll marry you.”

“W-what?”

“I won’t have a bride, but that’s fine. You’ll still look pretty in a white gown, I think.”

“No, you can’t do that.” Tooru tries to free his hand away, but Hajime makes sure to keep him in place. “Iwa-chan, you’re going to meet your bride in the future.”

Ignoring Tooru’s remarks, Hajime reaches for something in his bag. He whips out a yellow-colored marker, and says, “I don’t have a ring, but this will do for now, right?”

Without preamble, without asking, he marks a haphazard circle around Tooru’s ring finger, smiling as he does so.

“There,” Hajime says. “Ah, I know I should’ve asked this before putting the ring on you, but…” Hajime blushes in the embarrassment of forgetting to ask, the full weight of what he’s doing only coming to realization now.

He bites his lower lip, squeezes Tooru’s hand before he asks, finally, “Marry me?”

 

 

Later, Tooru will ask Hajime to let him take a picture with both of them in it, brandishing his ring in front of the camera, eyes shiny from crying so much. Hajime will cross his arms and pout, looking away from the camera, a shade of pink still adorning his skin…

But Tooru will be too happy to notice.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa breathes in the late summer afternoon air. Rain dropped in Miyagi softly this morning, the earthy scent of petrichor fresh in his nostrils, and maybe the ground they’re sitting on is a little wet still, but he wouldn’t move from this place for anything. Iwaizumi is napping on his shoulder after a tiring day of practice, both of them leaning back against a beautiful orange tree.

The flowers are just starting to blossom for the first time.

Oikawa vividly remembers those days like they just happened yesterday. Of course, the camera vanished into thin air the day after Iwaizumi’s childhood promise, but Oikawa would be damned before he forgot about both.

Iwaizumi still flushes in embarrassment so adorably whenever Oikawa brings up the proposal.

He sighs in content, smiling happily at the only picture he never threw away. The future, Oikawa figures, is malleable. It is not concrete. It’s flexible to one’s whims and influence, ever changing to the point of being perfectly uncertain.

He never told Iwaizumi about any of it either, even when asked what the deal was with the camera phase.

 

  
After all, Oikawa thinks, giggling. What’s the point if everyone already knows what the future holds?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> r: i tried to write like i know about cameras
> 
> y: i dont know anything about cameras
> 
> we tried


End file.
